Lost ; Daryl Dixon

Chapter 19

The next time Daryl's peace was disturbed by the crunch of footsteps approaching through the undergrowth, he knew who it was before they came into sight. Carol had left him several days earlier with another plea that he should continue to camp where he was, just so she'd know, she said, whether he was dead or alive. He'd known that what she really wanted was for him to stay in one place so she could send in the big guns, but he'd had nowhere else to go anyway, so he'd done as she asked. Honestly, he was surprised it had taken Rick this long to show, but he guessed there was stuff going on back home he didn't know about. Hell, there was always stuff going on in the apocalypse. You'd put down one threat just to find that another had been sneaking up on you from behind. That was life now.

As the sheriff appeared from between the trees, Daryl nodded his head in greeting, before moving forward to embrace his old friend, realising that he'd missed him more than he'd let himself believe. Sometime between wanting to take the bastard down when he'd locked Merle on a roof in the middle of Atlanta, and fighting at his side against the Saviors, Rick had become his brother, a better damn brother than his own flesh and blood had ever been. They could communicate with small nods and gestures, always knew what the other was thinking and had made a pretty badass team for the last who in the hell knew how long. Although Daryl was a bit of a loner, feeling most comfortable working on his own, he'd felt pretty unstoppable with this man at his side. It felt good to remember what that had been like.

'How's it going, Daryl?' Rick drawled in his ear before stepping back and running his eyes over the archer, taking in his unkempt appearance. 'Carol told me I could find you here.'

'Figured she would,' Daryl nodded, chewing on his thumbnail as he moved away to lean against a tree. 'Dunno why though. Told 'er I'm fine.'

'None of us believe that.'

Daryl shot him a harsh glare, but it softened when he noted the dark circles beneath Rick's eyes, the beard that was badly in need of a trim. His friend hadn't been taking care of himself either, that much was obvious. 'Ain't doin' no worse than you by the looks of it.'

Rick sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, before dropping to sit on the ground, legs akimbo as he took a shaky breath. 'It's hard, I'm not gonna pretend it's not. But I've got people around me, family. I don't know how I'd get through each day without them.'

'Ya jus' would.'

'Nah, Daryl, what you're doing here... I don't understand it. You've got people who care about you, who wanna help, but you're determined to go through it alone. I don't get it.'

'I don't want no help, Rick. I don't wanna get over this. S'my fault she's gone, 'n' I deserve to feel it every single day.'

'All you ever did was try to protect her,' Rick argued. 'Everything you did in the war was for her.'

'It was all for nothin' then, wasn't it? All them people I killed, to save her, was for nothin'.'

'Is that what's been on your mind? The people you killed?'

'Yeah,' Daryl admitted, wiping his thumb on his trousers when his teeth drew blood, and sliding down the thick trunk to sit opposite the sheriff. 'Them, 'n' her, 'n' yer boy. All of 'em. Guess I don't trust my judgement no more. I've made too many mistakes.'

'We all make mistakes, every single one of us. It doesn't mean you should punish yourself for them though, Daryl. Come home. We need you. I need you.'